Day One
by Calim1
Summary: WHN "Immortality" (One-shot)


_Howdy! Well, I can't believe our beloved CSI is over. Well, over on TV. Never over in fan fiction. It is here that it shall live forever. And with the final episodes leaving Grissom and Sara back together I can foresee innumerable stories of their adventures together at sea, or elsewhere, as they continue to live their lives (along with all of our favorite characters) through our imagination._

 _I want to thank all of you who've read my other 2 one-shots and left reviews. I live for reviews. They make me keep writing._

 _This one-shot is a WHN to "Immortality" and takes place after the screen goes black._

 _No more dithering . . . . onward!_

* * *

 **Day One**

by Susan Dietz (Calim1)

Rating/Reading/Alerts: PG

Category: GG/SS WHN/DRA/HUMOR

Summary: WHN "Immortality"

 _© October 2015_

 _Feedback is appreciated_

 _Disclaimer: The characters and general situations in this story are the property of CBS and Jerry Bruckheimer, however, this author reserves the rights to specific details. It is not the author's intention to infringe upon their rights. This story is purely for the enjoyment of fans. Please do not redistribute in any form without written consent._

* * *

 **Day One**

Twilight was slowly taking over the sky as the last orange vestiges of the setting sun took the day with it. It was beautiful, being on the water, feeling the cool breeze against her skin. It made Sara Sidle smile.

The sounds of the ISHMAEL's engine reminded her of the time she'd spent on the Sea Shepherd. She'd learned so much about marine wildlife conservation along with how much she'd missed a certain gray-haired entomologist. Slowly, she shook her head. Who would've thought that after all this time it would be him sailing the ocean blue instead of her?

A clicking sound to her left pulled her attention from her thoughts to the man she was hanging onto watching him squint down at the control console and flicking his finger against the glass on one of the dials. Pulling out a small flashlight, he turned it on.

"Damn," Gil Grissom muttered.

"What's the matter?" she asked.

"Um …."

Taking note of that very un-Grissom like comment, Sara watched him frown just before turning an embarrassed look her way.

"Ah, it would seem we're almost out of gas."

She laughed. "That's the oldest one in the book, Gil."

"Actually, I believe the 'would you like to come up and see my etchings' would qualify as the oldest," he answered with a straight face before slowly turning the boat around.

"You're serious?"

"Yep," was his only answer.

"And how long have you been sailing?" she asked.

"Long enough to know better," he answered with a slight grimace.

Thankfully, she remained silent giving him a moment to debate with himself about telling her why they were nearly out of gas. He could be honest and admit his attention was diverted or he could come up with some long drawn out story about how the ISHMAEL's engines were a little tricky and needed to be pampered. Which was true but he supposed this wasn't the right time to get into that when he should be straightforward, to the point. He'd wanted to do that the entire time he was in Vegas and hadn't. Now was the time. Now ….

"So, will we make it back to dock?" she asked innocently.

He startled a bit and pretended to check his other dials. "We should. ISHMAEL can coast a long time on fumes."

"So you've done this before."

He grinned a little. "Once or twice."

"Hmm. An entomologist, a forensic scientist and now a seasoned sailor. Impressive."

"Don't be. A true sailor would never run out of gas."

"We seem to be doing fine," she answered looking away from him.

Grissom glanced at her. He wanted to tell her how beautiful she was, how having her by his side filled all the empty spaces and made him think that the future he'd tried _not_ to think about was going to be a lot brighter. Maybe he could say something poetic, something from the heart, something that would speak volumes in very few words.

"It's because of you," he blurted out then winced. That didn't even get close to poetic.

She turned back to him. "What's because of me?" she asked.

He stared at her a moment. "I …."

Sara waited. She'd jumped on him earlier for keeping silent then remembered that, sometimes, it took awhile for him to organize his thoughts, especially if they were meaningful. How she'd forgotten that …. She would give him whatever time he needed.

Inwardly, Grissom cursed his nerves. Sara was here, standing next to him. All he had to do was tell her how much he'd missed her, loved her, wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of his days with her by his side. Say something!

"When you . . . when you showed up today I was getting ready to head out to the fuel dock. You startled me. I couldn't believe you were actually standing there. I was flummoxed and never gave it another thought." He looked out into the dark waters. "I'm sorry. I just wanted to get us away from everything. I wanted you all to myself."

Sara leaned against him. "It's all right, Gil," she said, laying her head on his shoulder. "You still have me whether we're out of gas or not. Besides, it's romantic."

He scrunched up his face. "Romantic?"

She smiled at his puzzled tone. "We just saw an amazing sunset. We're together. And I haven't smiled this much in a very long time. Thank you."

"Oh, ah … you're welcome?"

She laughed. The familiar sound made him grin. As she snuggled up closer to him, he was pretty sure she wasn't regretting taking his hand and coming aboard. He'd wanted this for so long, had given up hope that she would ever be his again, yet here she was. It was like a dream. He didn't want to wake up.

"Hey, is that …?" Sara began, her voice trailing off.

Grissom looked up and followed where she was pointing, seeing someone standing on the fast approaching dock, hands on hips.

"Looks like it," he answered wondering if he was in more trouble.

Slowing then turning ISHMAEL to back into the slip, Grissom left Sara at the helm and climbed down the ladder heading aft, easily catching the rope thrown to him.

"What the hell, Grissom?" came the familiar voice. "Trespassing? Shark fins?"

Carefully, wrapping the rope about one of the cleats, Grissom caught the next rope. "I see you've been speaking to Officer Scinta."

"And Catherine."

Grissom groaned then looked over his shoulder. "Okay, Sara," he shouted.

The sounds of the engine died and he watched her come down the ladder and head towards him, a giant smile on her face.

"Hey, Nick," she said, taking hold of their friend's outstretched hand and letting him help her onto the dock.

"Hey, yourself," he answered giving her a hug before turning back to Grissom. "Heard what happened in Vegas. Seems you've still got it."

"Like riding a bike," he answered with a half-smile, deciding he'd just stand on the boat until one or the other asked him to come ashore. Hopefully, they would.

"Come on, you two," Nick began, breaking the silence. "I need all the skinny so I'm taking you to dinner."

Sara glanced at Grissom then held out her hand to him. Any hesitation he felt disappeared as she smiled at him and he hurriedly complied.

CSICSICSICSICSI

"Ohhhhhh," Grissom groaned.

Slowly, he pushed himself up into a sitting position, the thin blanket that had partially covered him pooling at his waist. Easing against the wall of ISHMAEL's sleeping quarters, he tried to relax his aching muscles and failed.

"Are you all right," came Sara's sleepy voice beside him.

Peering to his left, he rubbed his brow, wondering what time it was. "Would you believe me if I said yes?" he answered.

She chuckled slightly. "No."

The two of them in the midsized berth had been tight but it seemed they still fit together. He remembered Nick offering to let them stay at his place but Sara had been adamant they get back to ISHMAEL. She'd wanted to get used to it since that's where she'd be from now until whenever. He remembered smiling, a big huge pleased with himself smile, and Nick poking him then shaking his hand. It was too bad that he'd fallen asleep barely ten minutes after they'd come back on aboard.

"I'm sorry I conked out on you," he apologized as he closed his eyes.

"Don't be," she said. "We've had a couple of strenuous days."

"No kidding." He ran his hands up and down his face. "Remind me to never accept another invitation from Nick ever again," he said.

"You didn't have to do it, you know," she said as she stretched.

"And let Nick ride me all night about what a wuss I am? No thank you."

"Since when has that mattered?" she asked.

He paused as never came to mind. Well, until now. He shrugged instead.

"You don't need to prove anything to me, Gil," she said.

He rubbed his face again. Maybe he did need to prove something to someone. "I think the bartender spiked my drink. Two beers normally don't make me do foolish things like ride a mechanical bull … three times."

"You had fun," she said, sitting up and yawning. "You were smiling all night."

"That was gas from the Texas style baked beans."

She snorted. "No. I can tell when you're having fun."

He peered at her. "You can, can you?"

She looked at him. He was adorable with his mussed hair and pillow creased face. She just wanted to rip off his old Pink Floyd t-shirt and have her way with him but chose to restrain herself. Sex had never been their problem but, now, it wasn't a solution. Now, they needed to reconnect in a purely non-physical way before they even considered heading down that path.

"Yep. You're an easy read, mister," she answered, "when I apply myself."

He smirked. "Oh, really? Do tell."

She leaned in as close to him as she could get and clasped his hand. "Well, the obvious signs are you smile a lot more and tell off color jokes. More than normal," she corrected herself.

"And?"

"You play along and loosen up and you laugh." His brows rose. "Not the normal chuckle or quiet giggle. Yes, you giggle," she added when he looked askance at her. "A soft snicker that usually ends with one of your sideways grins." She smiled. "I love those sideways grins."

"That sounds better," he said, a pleased look on his face..

Her smile widened. "Your laugh comes from your toes and moves right on up and out. It's infectious, like a little kid's laugh. And I love it."

"A little kid's laugh," he repeated. "Those always make me smile." Raising his hand, he kissed the back of hers.

"How did I do?" she asked, looking closely at him.

"Nailed it," he answered with a toothy grin.

"Then do me," she said with a smile.

"I can barely move, my dear," he said with a grimace.

She shoved him with her shoulder. "Not that. How do you know I'm having fun?"

"Oh, that's easy," he said with a slight smile. "Your eyes light up, twinkle even, and you get this look on your face that …." His voice trailed off and he silently stared at their entwined hands.

"That what?"

He looked back up at her. "That makes it seem like that particular moment is the best moment of your life. It makes me feel happy that I witnessed it especially if it's something I've done that made you look that way."

Leaning forward, she kissed his cheek. "That's sweet."

"Yeah?" he said a tentative smile on his face.

"Yeah," she assured him. "What else?"

He chuckled. "Your big raucous laugh that belts out of you. It startled me the first time I heard it, you know. Nearly tripped off the curb. Could've hurt myself."

"You did not," she admonished.

"Did, too," he said. "San Francisco. We were going to that coffeehouse on the corner. I made some comment and out it came, filling the air around me. If I'd been holding said coffee I would've burned myself."

"You poor baby," she cooed.

"It would've hurt and then you would've been embarrassed."

"I _was_ embarrassed. Nobody likes a sound like that in their ear."

"Oh, I don't know," he said. "Once I got used to it, I liked it." He grinned at her. "I like a lot of things about you."

"What things?" she asked.

He looked at her and she knew he was sifting through all the things he could say and hoping none of them were wrong. She'd felt that same look on her as they'd waited for the bees to return. Inwardly, she sighed. It used to be that words were seldom needed between them. But then time apart led to a darker silence and now they found themselves in that place again - that hesitating awkwardness that had taken years to overcome.

Well, this time _she'd_ come to him. Any hesitation over such a rash decision vanished the moment he'd held out his hand, had lifted her onto the boat and she'd looked into those eyes she loved so much. She would never let go again.

"What things?" she prompted again, laying a hand on his arm.

He covered her hand with his. "You smell nice. Well, except after a decomp," he added with a slight grin as she giggled. "You have a specific scent about you that calms me. It always has. I've … missed that. I've missed _you_."

Holding her gaze a moment before looking back at their hands, he wondered if he'd said too much too soon. He'd been so afraid to say much of anything in Vegas and had been hoping she'd start the ball rolling, opening the door for conversation. But she hadn't and that just made him clam up.

But then she was on the dock. He'd thought he was seeing things and just stood there staring until his brain finally kicked in and he'd held out his hand, praying she'd take it. When she did …. When she did and he'd helped her aboard all he could think to do was stare at her again, silently, fearful that words would burst the bubble that had suddenly formed around them. Her tremulous smile said much more than mere words ever could.

Slowly, letting out a long breath, he cleared his throat. "I've missed a lot about you," he added. "I've missed your sense of humor, your smile, those beautiful eyes. I've missed having someone that will be there to talk to and share ideas with; someone who understands me and doesn't question that I talk to bees." He gave her a shy grin that slowly faded. "And … I missed someone who loves me as I love them."

Sara felt a tremble run through him at those last quiet words and her vision began to blur. Letting go of him she wrapped her arms about him, burying her head on his shoulder. He held her close.

"You always seemed to know when I needed you even before I did," he continued. "I wasn't always very receptive but it was very much appreciated. I came to rely on it. Sometimes too much."

"I didn't mind," she whispered. "You keep things bottled up. I just wanted to be there for you."

"And you were. You always were."

"Until I wasn't."

"Sara …."

She pulled back and ran a thumb across his cheek. "I'd never thought of it as running away when I left you in Paris but that's what it was. I told your mother being separate worked for us not realizing until it was too late that our being together, like this, is what makes us whole, what makes the future possible. I'm sorry it took so long for me to admit that to myself."

"Don't be," he said. "Both of us could've done things differently. I could've said no when you wanted to go back to CSI. I could've fought harder for us. At the end I didn't know what to do." Biting his lower lip, he peered into her eyes. "But now _this_ time is what's important. I believe in second chances. Do you?"

"Yes."

"Then let's run with it," he said. "You're here so it seems you want the same things I do. Let's not lose sight of that again."

She nodded. "We won't."

"Are you sure? We thought that before," he reminded her.

She was sure. After seeing the tape, after hearing his words, she knew she'd never lose sight of what she wanted ever again.

"I'm sure that I am where I'm supposed to be," she told him. "I never would've come here if I wasn't."

Slowly, he smiled. "Do you know what else I like about you? You loved Hank and my Pasta Primavera, you like to learn and explore, you like to sit around and read. I'm fascinated by your ability to empathize with the victim but scared as well that when you fall into that emotional hole you dig for yourself you'll become lost."

Wrapping his arm about her shoulders, he tugged her close. "But what I love the most is your passion – for the work, for life, for …." He hesitated then kissed her forehead.

"For what?" she asked.

"You make me feel everything, Sara," he continued. "When you touch me it's like a blazing fire sweeping up my body and overtaking my senses. I can't get enough of it and I missed it terribly." He paused and laid his head against hers. "I don't ever want it to stop," he said quietly. "Please tell me it won't ever stop again."

Everything was so familiar yet so fragile. If it broke again, he truly didn't know what he would do. And there was so much baggage trialing along behind them. Maybe it was time to throw it all overboard.

Sara moved her head away from his and he turned his gaze on her. She hated seeing such vulnerability in those blue eyes and gently ran a hand down his cheek. He leaned into it.

"It won't ever stop," came her husky voice, "because you, Gil Grissom, match my passion with a burning one of your own. Who would've thought that the mysterious science nerd was such a tiger."

She grinned then did what she hadn't planned on doing - pulled him forward and met his willing lips with her own. It was too soon, her brain argued but her body wasn't listening.

He held her tightly, tongue flicking against her lips until she opened them and he deepened the kiss. Slowly, he rolled on top of her … and quickly came to a stop. Letting out a loud grunt, he dropped his head against her neck.

"Gil?" Sara said, worry tinging that one word.

"I'm gonna kill Nick," rose up to meet her ears.

"Oh," she said trying not to grin. "Can you move?"

"Just-just give me a minute."

"Okay," she answered running her hands down his back, trying to soothe his aching muscles. How she'd dreamed of doing this again - hold him, take care of him, feel his breath against her neck. The real thing was so much better. "Do you know what I like about you?" she finally said.

"Uh-uh."

"Your blue eyes. They were the first things I noticed and they drew me in. You can say more, take my breath away and pin me to the wall with one glance. And that sideways grin and the slight shake of your head when you're pleased with yourself is so wonderfully charming. It highlights that boyish charm of yours."

"Boyish charm," came his scoffing muffled replay.

"You have tons of it, mister, and you know it. All you have to do is smile and let that smile reach your eyes and whomever you're speaking to is caught like a butterfly in a net. I think you taught Nick that because he can do the same thing."

"He already did that."

"So you admit it," she said with a chuckle. She felt him grin against her neck. "Yeah, you admit it."

"What else?" he asked, sliding a little bit to the side and carefully taking Sara with him.

She watched him hold his breath then slowly relax before opening his eyes to look into hers as she rested across his body.

"I am so awed by your memory and your ability to pull it up so quickly. It's amazing that you know so much about everything."

"Most people find it off-putting," he admitted.

"It's endearing because you don't make people feel stupid. You bring them into the conversation and use it as a teaching tool. Greg loved it when you did things like that after he got over being a nervous wreck around you."

"I don't know why he was so nervous. He's brilliant."

"It could've been the time you pushed that cart full of evidence into the hall and yelled at him," she reminded him.

"I apologized for that."

She smiled. "I know. He wants to be as good as you."

"He was before I left and I'm sure he's even better now. He has the drive."

"And that's another thing I like about you. You make people want to be better without even trying. We all wanted to make you proud."

"You did," he agreed. "You were the best team I ever worked with. All of you. And look where you've gone. Catherine's with the FBI, Nick is running his own team here in San Diego and you …." He paused. "You gave up …"

"Stop," she said, laying her hand over his mouth.

He pulled it away. "You gave up being the Lab's Director, Sara. That was a great success. I would never have asked you to do that."

"And you didn't, Gil. That was my decision."

"Obviously it's what you wanted."

She wrapped her fingers about his hand. "I thought I did. I thought it would make a difference, would show the world how I'd grown as a person to take on such a responsibility. And then Heather showed up and I couldn't even get through her first interview without making a scene. I should've known then being the Lab Director wasn't for me. I don't know how to play politics any better than you do."

He half-smiled then tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "If you want to remain in Vegas as a CSI or something else, I'm more than willing to stay," he offered.

She shook her head. "I came back the last time because I needed closure. I stayed because I needed direction. I should've left when things started to go bad for us but was afraid. I was safe in Vegas." She stared into his eyes. "I'm not scared anymore, Gil."

"But I let you go."

She held his gaze. "But you didn't, did you?" she asked.

He'd been mooning over her ever since he'd come back to Vegas. She had to know the answer to that. Slowly, he shook his head. "No."

"And you would've walked away this time without saying a word."

He swallowed and clasped her hand tighter. "Yes."

"Even though that meant you would miss me for the rest of your life?" she asked.

His eyes narrowed then an uncomfortable look crossed his face soon replaced with resolution. "And I meant it, Sara." He paused. "You don't know how much I wanted to say I love you through this whole thing."

"You should've just told me."

"Would you have believed me?" he asked.

Sara's quick answer was yes but, considering her reaction to Heather's presence, she knew he was right. "No," she answered.

A bit of a grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. "I was hoping that once the killer was caught we could talk and maybe you'd listen but then Ecklie made you Director and I was stuck. I waited for you to say something, to let me know you might be willing to at least hear me out but when you told me you hoped I'd find what I was looking for, I knew there was no chance. You see I'd already found what I needed. I just couldn't keep hold of it." He shrugged. "You seemed happy, successful. You'd moved on while I was still in the same place. There was no right time for me to say what I needed to say so I just didn't."

She laid her head on his chest and listened to his heartbeat, liking the feel of his hand moving across her hair.

"I could see it in your eyes, you know, in the hall," she said. "I waited for you to say something."

"I told you. You make me speechless sometimes," he reminded her, "and I'm out of practice when it comes to overcoming that."

Resting her chin on his chest, she looked at him. "I'm willing to come to practice every day from now until forever to help you overcome it." He looked at her, his hand stopping on her hair. "What?"

"I'm sorry, I …. It's just that we've talked of forever before."

She frowned then sat up, watching him struggle to do the same and lean against the wall, his eyes never leaving hers.

"I know that we've both been hurt by the past, that we've hurt each other. Some intentional, some not," she quickly added, reaching for and taking hold of his hand. She found strength in how his fingers curled around hers. "And even though our past influences everything we do, I want this day, right now, right here, to be our Day 1. And I'm looking forward to Day 10 and Day 50 and Day 1,000,000."

She draped her other hand over the top of his and held tightly. "And I'm not so naïve anymore to think that every day will be glorious. We will piss each other off. We will have words and we can go to our separate corners. But we can't stay there. I won't let you sulk if you don't let me."

"I don't sulk," he said, pursing his lips.

"You're a great sulker. You get even quieter than normal."

"You throw harsh glances and sneer," he said, tensing up when he realized what he'd said. Her reaction, though, was not what he expected.

A loud startled laugh filled the cabin and it was music to his ears. "I've worked for years perfecting that look," she finally got out.

"And it is a great success."

She smiled and fiddled with his fingers. "Thank you for reminding me why I fell in love with you so long ago. I can't believe I forgot it for a time." Leaning forward, she kissed his cheek. "I will _never_ forget nor will I _ever_ leave you again," she whispered before sitting back.

His eyes widened. He'd wanted her to say those words without prompting, to make him believe that they had a chance. And now she had.

"Really?" he questioned quietly.

"Really," she answered

"So I don't need to get you another plant?"

Her brow rose and her mouth opened as a smirk crossed his lips. "You are so bad," she answered with a slight laugh.

"What?" he asked innocently.

"I'm gonna so get you," she said reaching down to his sides to tickle him.

"No, no, don't do that," he yelped grabbing hold of her arms, making her fall on his chest. He smiled devilishly at her. "Now who's got whom?"

Sara couldn't resist kissing him gently along his jawline, telling her inner voice, shouting at her to stop, to shut up. She was tired of holding back, tired of not having what she wanted.

"I only have one thing to say," she said, pulling her lips from his skin and looking deeply into his eyes. "'May the road rise up to meet us'," she began smiling tenderly at him, "'and may the wind always be at our back'." Grissom's brows rose and he ran his fingers down her face. "And I love you more than anything in this world."

His breath hitched and warmth filled him. She still loved him.

She still loved him.

He cleared his throat. "That's-that's more than one thing," he commented, giving her a shaky smirk.

Sara smiled. "Shut up and kiss me, bugman."

A full smile crossed his face.

"Yes, ma'am," he quickly answered before taking her in his arms and granting her request.

* * *

 _Ah, happy at last. Thank goodness! I so hated what the writers did to them and am pleased that Anthony Zuiker put them back together to sail into the sunset together._

 _Well, I hope you enjoyed. You know the drill. Review please. Thanks! :-D_


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